


Hume Child

by rozurashii



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: AU/AR, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-31
Updated: 2011-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-22 01:38:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rozurashii/pseuds/rozurashii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the waiting that's hard. The inaction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hume Child

**Author's Note:**

> An AU where Vaan is raised by Fran in the Salikawood.

The hume child was ill and had been for many days now. His dirty blond hair lay slick against his forehead, matted with sweat and grime. Their hut smelled fetid; stale air, smoke, and sick sitting heavy on the skin. The fire burned down to smoldering coals but the room remained sweltering and the boy still shivered under his blankets.

Fran wanted to open the windows but the chill air and freezing rain would only make his fever worse. She had been resigned to sponge baths since the weather turned, and she still felt the sickness like a layer of filth that couldn't be scrubbed clean. She had plans for the purification they would need for their home to become livable again. Those thoughts kept her grounded against the unease, creeping ghost-like across the hearth.

Rain continued to thrash against the trees, their barren fingers scratched at the windows in a lonely plea. In their small cot, the boy continued his restless dreaming. Fran's magicks were sluggish to work, they helped him very little. Fickle winds from Nabradia soured further attempts and Fran had largely abandoned those efforts, save when his fever spiked. That small shimmer of fear would spur her into action once again.

Fran flicked a small handful of aromatic leaves onto the coals and their faint incense cleared her nose, relieving the worst of her revulsion. The stagnation took its toll, and the worry more than that. The nearest Hume settlement was on the Phon Coast where supplies could be had, but a doctor was less likely. As his illness ebbed and flowed, so did the urge to carry him there herself. A stray chocobo could often be found near the coast. Even so, the howling winds did more to convince her to stay.

She dozed casually, one ear trained to listen for trouble. Despite willing her body to relax as she reclined near his slumbering body, every stray sound amplified her anxiety.

This feeling wasn't so strange nor unfamiliar but it was never so difficult to assuage. It was the first time she'd been alone; none of her sisters to share the pain. The boy had been her main companion since she found him. The small, abandoned hut was their home and though this wood was not _the_ wood, its sibilant whispers and promises filled the void in her heart.

Had she not been waiting for it, the faint knock at the door might have gone unnoticed under the tumult of their first winter storm. Fran tugged her shawl around her shoulders to ward off the inevitable chill and unlatched the door, allowing Balthier to stumble inside with a gust of wind and rain chasing him.

"Any progress?" He asked, tossing his heavy clothes over the back of a chair.

Her frown was minute, sparing a thought for the puddle that was forming on the floor. "Not noticeably," she murmured, returning to the child's bedside. "You have the medicine I asked for?"

"Anything for a lady," Balthier said, passing the remedy over with a flourish.

Fran offered him the barest sarcastic twitch of her ears in return. Balthier certainly had a flair for the dramatic, when it suited him. Some days, she would willingly play along but he truly did not have her attention just then. Nothing would sully her focus until the boy was well again.

"Come now, child, drink this. You'll feel better." She curled her fingers carefully around his jaw, levering it open enough to drip the potion into his mouth.

He coughed weakly as it trickled down his throat and she paused until she was sure he had come to no harm. Humes were delicate creatures and she had never been more aware of that fact.

Behind her, Balthier prowled restlessly, sliding his hands across the altar, picking up her crystals and keepsakes. Some of the finer things had been gifts from him. His magpie habits often parted people with their shiny trinkets and he was never stingy when he came to visit them.

"Will you wait out the storm, at least?" She asked him. There was no visible improvement to the boy's pallor but she knew it would be a matter of time, now that he had medicine to take.

"I could be convinced, if there are cakes involved."

There weren't, just then, but it was quick enough work to light the oven. Her patient would be clamoring for food, too, once he woke. Fran pulled up her sleeves with a smile. "That can be arranged, if you would like to add some labor to the bargain." The fire needed to be stoked, for a start, and there were always small tasks to be done, no matter the weather or season. "The wood pile is neglected this past week."

"I can see that it would be," Balthier said, a knowing smile curling the corners of his mouth. "The sky pirate hero shall exit stage left, to return in act two: lunch."

"No doubt your timing will be impeccable," Fran replied, droll and unable to quite express her thanks for that very thing.

Balthier wrapped himself back in his heavy coat and offered an ironic salute as he slipped out into the storm. Fran let her hands stray for another moment to the child's fevered brow before turning to her attention to making their meal.

There was a rhythm to the kitchen that was soothing, and the activity was a welcome distraction from the overbearing worry that had eaten up her days. The larder was full enough to offer the kind of hearty meal Balthier would be used to and it would be a nice treat for the child when he woke.

Fran smiled as she pulled things off the shelves. Her life could have gone many different ways, since leaving the wood and the only world she'd ever known. This place, carved out by her own two hands and molded by the people she shared it with, was surprisingly satisfying. She began to hum as the meal took shape, softly so not to disturb the boy from a truly restful slumber, a song of the future.


End file.
